by Pete David
By this time, Josie was four and I started the long days drinking coffee, which became a crutch to make it through the day. A few borrowed cigarettes led to chain-smoking. The nights became dedicated to social drinking in a bar with my fellow officers, at least those who were unaware of my role in the bad karma infiltrating my division.
Ironically, my professional decline came with benefits—the honing of my police instincts and capabilities. I began to model the behavior of my criminal adversaries and occasionally act like them while attempting to discover how Benny and his team operated. I developed a dual personality: an innocent and naïve officer in public, and in private a ruthless investigator intent on building a case against the corruption in the department.
Jesse shook her head. “You were under so much stress. It must have been difficult to be with a partner you knew was a crook.”
“It was awkward. Benny became more distant, which he told me was due to domestic troubles at home.”
I explained how difficult it was to accept Benny’s corruption. Partners are supposed to watch each other’s back. At first, I dismissed his excuses like a priest accepts a confession with the assumption the confessor is telling a figment of the truth. As it turned out, he had been seduced into the bed of deception, taking kickbacks to ignore and sometimes even abet prostitution and drug distribution from corporation-like criminals, some of whom represented the Mexican drug cartels.
Benny never confided in me or made an attempt at recruitment. I spoke admiringly about my father and brother who entered law enforcement ahead of me, and how they exemplified the proper conduct of police officers. I wanted to emulate their approach to being a public servant. This discussion must have made Benny’s anus pucker up inside his blue uniform as he decided to embark on a contrary career path.
“And you were still trying to nail Junky?”
“No. After realizing the extent of corruption and experiencing the tension of the indictment, my desire to survive replaced the obsession with the case. I dropped my personal inquiries and focused on being a regular cop.”
“I can’t blame you. You had a family.”
“I realized my investigations were putting all of our lives in jeopardy.”
“But Joanne stuck with you?”
“She did for a while. My behavior got worse as the pressure increased. Eventually, Joanne found living with me intolerable. She moved to an apartment with Josie, which should have sobered me from my muckraking drunkenness. When the first indictments were handed out, Joanne decided to leave L.A. It was the last straw—whether innocent or not, my association with the scandal had threatened her career by implication.”
Jesse placed her hand on my knee. “She shouldn’t have left with your daughter.”
“She should have discussed it with me. I understood her leaving, but with my life in turmoil, I made no attempt to stop her.” I remembered feeling like a kayaker caught in a river whirlpool. I could see the calmer river ahead, but I couldn’t extricate myself from the watery vortex. “The indictments and the Internal Affairs investigation probably saved me. The suspension from the force put me at home instead of sitting in a police vehicle, but the relief from the secrecy and fear didn’t come overnight. The scandal ended my marriage and started a cold war with my father and brother.
“Why were they so hard on you?”
“It’s the curse of being tainted by scandal when you have two family members with unblemished law enforcement records.”
“I’m sorry. But I do admire what you did afterward.”
“What was that?”
“You got out of there, kicked some bad habits, and tried to turn your life around.”
“Yeah, I’m doing a great job. I haven’t seen my daughter in over a year. I missed her birthday last year. So any rumors I’ve turned my life around are greatly exaggerated.”
“Your wife won’t let you see your daughter?” Jesse’s mouth dropped open.
“Joanne’s main motive for leaving was to protect Josie. Joanne knows I will come to see Josie when I’m ready.”
“Are you ready?”
“Very. Josie’s birthday is coming up and I have no intention of missing it.”
“Good, I’d like to meet your daughter.” The thought of Jesse wanting to meet Josie brought on a warm glow inside me until we hit the Phoenix area and the traffic slowed to a crawl.
Chapter 24
Jesse and I drove into the treatment center’s half-empty parking lot. Despite her previous enthusiasm, Jesse turned and stared out at the building’s front entrance, making no attempt to get out of the car. With her index finger, she nervously flicked the cover of a paperback book she had brought to read.
I touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
She smiled weakly. “I don’t know what to expect.”
“Sarah’s very frail. It’s only been a couple of weeks. It will take some time. You’re a nurse, you’ve probably seen worse.”
“Yes, but it’s different when the patient is my kid sister.”
“Go in and celebrate her being alive.”
She nodded and squeezed my arm before getting out of the car.
After an introduction to Sal and a few minutes of small talk in the lobby, an aide arrived to escort Jesse into the treatment ward. Sal guided me back to his sterile hospital-like office with its brown desk, gray filing cabinets, and white walls. Pictures of his family lined a short bookcase and added color to the dreary atmosphere. Several diplomas hung on the wall above Sal’s head, next to a large color photo of him with John McCain. A drawn black shade covered a small window and prevented the harsh Arizona sunshine from entering.
Sal laughed. “You look a lot better than the last time you were here.”
Maybe it was true on the surface, but my inner body wasn’t buying it yet. “I had a rough time getting Sarah out of L.A.
“Where was she?”
“In a whorehouse run by a ruthless pimp I tried to bust several times.”
“Based on your bruises, he must have been reluctant to give her up.”
“He had a couple of his hoods work me over until he learned of my intention.”
“Which was?”
“To pay him.” I shifted in my chair to relieve the discomfort in my ribs.
“How’s she doing?”
Sal leaned forward across his desk. “If you hadn’t rescued her she’d probably be dead. Her body was very weak and the drugs were slowly killing her. She’s not out of the woods yet. We’ve got her on some programs to help with the withdrawals. We can expect her to recover her strength with proper nutrition and rest. Of course, the most important thing is to wean her off her drug dependency. She has a rough road ahead. We should keep her for several months.”
“I retrieved her, so my job is done. The rest is up to the family. Her parents are divorced, so she wouldn’t be returning to a perfect family life.”
“Yes, Frank Minor spent several days here. He seemed remorseful. Apparently, there were some unkind words exchanged. He said she would live with her mother in Santa Fe. What about the sister?”
“They seem close, but who knows? Jesse’s works as a nurse in Santa Fe.”
“Having family support will help her. Like any addiction withdrawal, this will be a lifetime struggle for her. There will be temptations and perhaps relapses.” As Sal stared at me, I fidgeted with the cuff of my pants, self-conscious about my own battle with the trifecta of caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol. Sal didn’t know anything about my troubles. Despite being old acquaintances from school, we weren’t close friends and I had no desire to burden him with my personal problems. Despite a few stumbles, the promise of having a relationship with Jesse and re-entering my daughter’s life had kept me mostly on track.
I thanked Sal again and returned to the reception area to wait for Jesse. She emerged about an hour later, her eyes red with remnant tears. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to see such extreme suffering of a sibling.
I pla
ced my hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Sal’s a friend and he’ll take good care of her.”
Jesse’s shoulders slumped. “She looks so frail.”
“Give her time to get stronger.” With my arm around Jesse’s waist, I guided her to the car. “Are you hungry? How about a late lunch?”
She nodded. “I’m starving. “
We ate at an Applebee’s near the interstate. Jesse said little during the meal. When I paid the check she became more talkative. “Let’s go see your mom.”
The statement caught me by surprise. I started to protest, but she fixed me with a reproachful stare. “You’re right here.”
“We could go to the Desert Museum in Phoenix. It’s only ninety-five in the shade today. It will be fun,” I countered half-heartedly, suspecting she needed a diversion after the clinic visit. However, a trip down my family’s dysfunctional memory lane wasn’t likely to provide an antidote for the distress of seeing her sister.
“No, you should go see your mother while you’re in town. You told me you were in touch with her. Come on. Do it for me?” Her eyes lit up and she placed her warm hand on my arm.
I hated when women used their sexual appeal to make me cave in like a sinkhole. I had no will to refuse this woman even if it meant spending an uncomfortable afternoon with my parents. She handed me her phone.
My mom answered in her usual cheery voice. “Hi mom.” I tapped on the speaker.
“How are you, dear?” She didn’t use my name, which meant my dad was in ear shot.
“Fine. I’m in Scottsdale visiting a sick colleague. I was going to stop by with a friend.”
“Oh my. I’ll need to prepare something. I could make some snacks.”
I could picture my mom as her eyes caromed around the kitchen trying to remember if she had anything to bake. “Don’t put yourself out, mom. We just ate and we can’t stay long. We’ll be there in a half hour.” I pressed the end button and handed the phone back to Jesse. Her eyes beamed as she caressed my shoulder.
En route to my parent’s house, I detoured to my old high school to show Jesse the football complex where I had some stellar Friday nights on the gridiron. We parked on the street and walked over to peer through the chain-link fence at the well-manicured field. On the opposite side of the field, the early afternoon sun glared off the large columns of aluminum bleachers where raucous fans assembled during Friday night home games.
Jesse leaned against the fence. “So, you were a star receiver.”
“Until half-way through my senior year when I became quarterback after the starter got injured. I got the job by default since we didn’t have a legitimate back-up.”
Jesse smiled, “You must have been very popular with the girls.”
“It didn’t hurt to be a stand-out player on the football team.” I told her about losing my virginity as a sophomore to Daisy Kellogg in the rickety old woodshed behind the bleachers. After making out one warm night below the bleachers, she led me to the half-dilapidated refreshment stand, and produced a key for the padlock. As a beguiled youth about to experience intercourse for the first time, I didn’t question how she managed to get a key, or how often she had visited this same spot. Inside, she hoisted herself onto the sales counter, lifted her skirt, slid down her panties, and put me inside her. Fortunately, I didn’t last long because, as we rocked the walls of the unstable structure, I kept having visions of it collapsing on top of us.
I told my friend Robert Anaya about the sexual encounter, and he just laughed as if it occurred every night. Robert must have squealed to my brother about my dalliance with Daisy, who was neither a selective nor a responsible partner. The next day, Bart walked into my room, slapped me across the head, and handed me a pack of condoms. He always looked out for me, and wanted to make sure I didn’t become a parent or catch a communicable disease at 15 years old. Things had really changed since then.
Jesse laughed at my story, but she turned serious. “Enough with the trip down memory lane. You’re stalling.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “It’s that obvious? Okay, let’s go, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
…
My parents had a modest three-bedroom, one-story brick house in a community filled with retirees from up north and pensioned former law enforcement personnel. Despite living in an arid climate, the neighborhood residents still insisted on trying to keep a green lawn. The checkerboard of yellow and brown patches of grass suggested they weren’t very successful.
My mother’s flower boxes, filled with blooming black-eyed susans, sat like sentries along both sides of the driveway as we pulled up to the single-car garage. I knew the 2007 Toyota Corolla was parked inside. My parents didn’t like to venture very far from home and, except for church events and an occasional dinner, the car mostly stayed in the garage. Despite not having checked the odometer recently, I could probably have guessed the mileage to within fifty miles.
“When was the last time you were here?” Jesse said, as if reading my thoughts.
The question triggered my guilty feelings. I shrugged. “It’s been a few years. Probably at Christmas, when Josie was four.” I ignored the urge to get sentimental. Re-entering the life of my daughter would become my family priority and the rift with my father and brother would have to run its course. Imagining my father nestled in his recliner, denying my existence, would only pique my anger and cancel out my remorse.
We sat in the car a few more minutes before she said. “Well, go on.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“You dragged me into this, so you don’t have any choice. Besides, I’ll need someone to watch my back, in case my dad is awake and goes for his cane.”
She laughed and appeared to be emerging from her post-clinic visit funk. “You’re a well-trained policeman so I think you can handle a cane-wielding geriatric. Besides, he can’t possibly hold a grudge this long.”
“You don’t know my dad. His cop pride sustains him like nectar for a butterfly.”
My mom answered the door wearing a floral dress. The pink apron hanging from her neck suggested a post-phone call round of baking had begun. She gasped with joy and hugged me. I introduced her to Jesse who received a cordial greeting. The additional wrinkles in my mom’s face made her appear older and her dark hair had turned noticeably grayer. But her broad smile radiated from the doorway.
The aroma of freshly baked cookies greeted us as we entered the house. A television blared in the living room where my father sat with his feet extended in his beige recliner, a cold can of beer resting in the plastic cup-holder. After an injury-shortened twenty-year career with the Phoenix Police Department, George Caldwell spent most of his retirement glued to the TV watching the latest in raunchy talk shows and melodramatic courtroom battles. A cane rested across his lap to remind him of the ricocheted bullet that shattered his fibula.
With a voice tinged with embarrassment, my mom yelled, trying to out-compete the TV. “George, Arch and his friend Jessica are here.” My father made no acknowledgement he heard, which prompted an apologetic look from my mother.
We sat and talked at the kitchen table munching on warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies, while my mother filled us in on some distant relatives, many of the names and facial images I had forgotten. She finally got around to my brother, the other cop in the family. He and my nieces and nephews from Mesa visited often. Her emphasis on the last word sounded like she was chastising me, but the estrangement from the family hadn’t occurred on my end.
My father never made an appearance. Not even the aroma of the baked cookies could entice him into the kitchen in my presence. The sound of the TV had gotten softer indicating my father, although too proud to welcome his professionally tainted son, was still interested enough to eavesdrop on his conversation. Jesse recounted the story about my heroic efforts to retrieve her sister from a violent pimp in L.A., and like a sports announcer, my mother presented the play by play t
o my father. “George, did you hear what your son did?” She always had a flare for the dramatic. “He almost got killed saving Jessica’s sister.” She took my hand while presenting my story.
The visit appeared to have a cathartic effect on Jesse. She smiled through the entire conversation, occasionally laughing at my mom’s stories. I forgot about my father in the next room to enjoy this rare moment of contentment. Eventually, my mom’s focus switched to Josie. My mom played it coy, not revealing how she obtained such recent and detailed information. She did not admit to knowing where my ex-wife and daughter lived—her true alliances to my ex-wife clearly established. I let it pass.
Jesse wandered into the living room to introduce herself to my father. It didn’t take long to measure the effect of her beauty and personality on my father. The sound of the TV faded and they engaged in a friendly hushed conversation.
My mom also seemed taken by Jesse and expressed the obligatory “What a nice girl,” to which I replied with a perfunctory, “Yes, she is.”
Jesse’s presence saved me from my mom’s gentle inquiries as to whether Joanne and I might reconcile, as if it was only up to me. My mom’s allegiance to Joanne was still strong.
Jesse fixed me with a grin as she returned to the kitchen for another cookie. We said our goodbyes with hugs for my mom and headed toward the front door.
Before leaving, I poked my head into the living room, where my dad still sat transfixed to the TV, the sound returned to a normal volume. “See ya, pop.” He nodded, and added a grunt I hoped might be the first step in the thawing of our icy relationship.
Jesse insisted on paying for our stay at a Holiday Inn near the interstate, which relieved me from deciding whether to get one or separate rooms. I removed our bags, nervous as to how she would play it. She apparently compromised by getting a room with double beds—just sleeping in the same room with her would be the closest thing to intimacy I had experienced in some time.
We shared a bottle of chardonnay and talked through dinner. Upon returning to the room, I showered, brushed my teeth, and put on a pair of athletic shorts to sit on the bed with the sports pages. The Raiders were 0 and 5.